Blood of the Father
by Koinaka
Summary: Sam's generation of psychic kids wasn't the first. When odd things begin happening after Harry Potter's twenty-third birthday, he goes to America for answers. Whatever he expected, this was definitely not it!
1. Prologue

So... a new story for me! I really ought not to be writing as I have loads of school work, but my muse simply wouldn't leave me be. This is just the prologue. Hope you guys enjoy and please do review. I'm very nervous about writing a HP/Supernatural Crossover.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turns twenty-three in July of 2003. I also haven't chosen a pairing. Feel free to make suggestions.

Edit: I had a reviewer ask so I thought I would clarify: No bashing will occur. The fight found within the prologue isn't meant to be bashing.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

Prologue

The first time it happened, Harry was certain it was just a coincidence.

It was a Monday, a day Harry would have hated on sheer principle if not for the very real reason why he found the day so deplorable. Strictly speaking, it was because Harry's M.N.R. otherwise known as The Magical Protections for Abuse Against Nonmagical Persons Report or as Harry had dubbed it - _The Mind Numbingly boring Report_ - was always _always _due first thing Monday mornings. At 9 o'clock sharp, not 8:59 or 9:01, but at 9 o'clock sharp, Harry was supposed to be sitting wedged inside his tiny office waiting for Mr. Rudenheim, his rolypoly superior to pick up said M.N.R.

But that morning... nothing was going as planned.

Harry had spent the previous night just as he had spent every other Sunday night for as long as he could remember. First, he went over to the Burrow for Sunday dinner with the Weasleys. Then, he went out for a drink with Ron and Hermione to celebrate the fact that Ron had finally managed to pluck up the courage and propose to Hermione - something that Harry was supremely grateful for. He hadn't stopped at one drink, though. Half-way through the night, his two friends had shared a meaningful look before turning to face him.

"How are things at the Ministry?" Hermione asked.

Harry shrugged. "Fine, I suppose. Business as usual, yeah?" He swirled the contents of his tumbler before downing the amber liquid in one swallow only wincing slightly at the burn as it went down.

Across from him, there was a silent argument taking place, filled with more meaningful looks and climaxing with Hermione not _too_ discretely stomping on Ron's foot.

Ron scowled at his fiance but then schooled his expression into what Harry supposed ought to look like concern. Combined with the remnants of the scowl, however, Ron only looked constipated. "So... you really like working with my dad, then?" Ron finally asked.

"Why wouldn't I?" Harry countered. "He's a real riot, your dad is. Loads of fun to work with."

Ever since graduating from Hogwarts, Harry had been working at the Ministry of Magic with Mr. Weasley in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. It wasn't exactly the career people, himself included, expected him to pursue, but he liked it well enough. Most of the time, that is.

Ron gave Hermione a look that seemed to say, _See, he's happy_, but Hermione countered his look with one of her own. It was Hermione who won that particular battle which, really, was to be expected. "Say, Harry," Ron continued in a falsely breezy voice. "Do you ever think about doing something else with your life?"

Harry's gaze flitted over to Hermione before fixing onto Ron shrewdly. "I _am_ doing something with my life. I've got a career, friends..." His voice died out when Hermione made an odd-sort of choking noise. "You alright, Hermione?"

"Yes, perfectly fine," the witch said. "Go on, Ron, you were saying?"

After a moment's hesitation, Ron, who most certainly had _not_ been speaking prior to Hermione's choking fit, continued. "Err...yeah, well, Harry, wouldn't you rather... you know... do something different? Something that would, uh, make sure you reach your potential?"

It had gone downhill from there. Apparently, there had been an entire speech constructed by Hermione about how Harry wasn't even attempting to reach his "full potential as a wizard and an upstanding leader of the wizarding world" and "hadn't he even thought about marrying some witch and settling down?" Neverminding the fact that he wasn't even in any relationship at the moment let alone one serious enough to contemplate marriage! And that was also ignoring the fact that he might not even fall in love with a witch in the end. He was attracted to them, yes, but he was also attracted to wizards, so it was just as likely he would fall in love with a wizard as it was that he would fall in love with a witch.

And _potential_... Harry had heard quite enough of that word, thank you very much, to last him a lifetime. The wizarding world was always expecting one thing or another out of him. He'd fulfilled the prophecy, hadn't he? He paid his taxes and his bills, didn't he, and did all of the other things that respectable adults did even though he'd only turned twenty-three the previous Thursday. If Hermione... or Mrs. Weasley... or anyone else was unhappy with his choices... well, that was _their_ problem, wasn't it?

It had taken several more drinks that he would usually drink on a Sunday in order to drown out Hermione's lecture. He needn't be blamed, really, for oversleeping because, after all, he hadn't gone to sleep until the early hours of the morning. And it wasn't his fault, in particular, that the wards on his flat were such that he couldn't Apparate within a one mile radius in any direction, so while he _had _woken up in just enough time to dress and head to the Ministry, he hadn't taken into account traveling... nor had he taken into account the rain or the crowd of Muggles huddled beneath umbrellas littering his path. Still... Harry didn't lose his temper until a passing motor car splashed murky water all over his freshly laundered trousers.

"I wish it would just _stop_ raining!" he muttered angrily as he juggled his umbrella and briefcase in one hand while grabbing his wand with the other.

He hadn't even noticed that the rain had stopped at the precise second of his pronouncement until later that morning.

After that day, however, he began to notice a number of other strange things that were occurring - such as the the headaches that began to plague him. Ever since that morning, he had experienced a number of splitting headaches that had proven to be repellent to all Muggle aids and even most usual magical cures.

These headaches were accompanied by a feeling of restlessness. For the first time since he could remember, he felt unhappy with his current life... trapped almost. There was something he should be doing, he was sure of it... but what?

And the _dreams_... never since Voldemort had he ever had such dreams, such singularly odd dreams.

It soon became all he could think of! Just who was that yellow-eyed man, and why was Harry dreaming of him?

Still... he hadn't connected all of those other occurrences to the odd weather that London was currently experiencing. The lady on the telly talked about some phenomenon called _global warming_ being the reason why it was so unseasonably warm, but when the temperature was still considerably mild even in the beginning of December... well, there was all sorts of speculation in _The Daily Prophet_.

He might have been able to ignore it completely if it wasn't for the sheer amount of paperwork generated by it all. Apparently, there was some people who thought that the anomalies in the weather _might_ be caused by some sort of curse. While Harry didn't feel that this had anything to do with his particular department, he was still forced to sit in a number of very boring meetings on how Muggle agriculture was dependent on stability in the weather and the variety of complications that such a curse, if it was indeed a curse, might cause for them.

He might have even believed that it was just a coincidence the weather had abruptly altered to how it ought to have been all along when Harry had wished, upon discovering he was facing a third week of very similar meetings, that everything would just go back to normal already.

That is, of course, if all of these odd happenings hadn't culminated with the spectacular row between him and Hermione.

After graduating from Hogwarts with the highest N.E.W.T. score since Dumbledore himself, the world had literally been Hermione's for the taking. However, she had turned down a number of apprenticeships and positions in order to focus on advocating for the rights of magical creatures, including, but certainly not limited to: house elves, werewolves, centaurs, and, astonishingly enough, giants. It was, by and large, not a paying position. Hermione ran her advocacy program, E.T.F.A.M.I. or the _Equitable Treatment for All Magical Individuals_, primarily by the donations from the wealthy. Her lack of income was inconsequential as both she and Ron still lived at the Burrow while saving for a home of their own.

It was the week prior to Christmas when things began escalating between the three friends. It was all largely to do with the fact that Harry refused to increase the amount of his donation for the next year. It wasn't that he didn't care about his friend, or _magical individuals_ as Hermione insisted on calling them stating that the term creature was simply savage, he just didn't see the need for an increased donation. He already donated a large amount of money to several different charities, including E.T.F.A.M.I. along with St. Mungos and The Tonks-Lupin Memorial Home for Magical Children, the orphanage that Andromeda Tonks ran for wizarding orphans out of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. His refusal to increase his donation might have been forgiven if not for his refusal to endorse Hermione's Private Members Bill regarding universal freedom for all house elves. That seemed to have been the straw that broke the camels back and resulted in the ensuing row.

All throughout that week there had been another odd shift in the weather. As Harry's anger increased, the weather began to shift. Once again, the temperature increased but this time the warmer temperatures also brought storms, electrical storms in particular. In fact, the atmosphere was so charged the day of their row that Harry's already unbridled hair was nearly standing on end.

The row was the sort of row that all friends have at least once in their friendship. It might have been about the donation and Harry's political support in the beginning but before he knew it, the three friends were fighting about things that had happened years ago.

When Ron brought up Harry and Ginny's breakup, which was always a particularly sore topic for Harry who had loved Ginny immensely though he had found it difficult to resolve that feeling with his newly awakened attraction to men which was the main reason they broke up in the first place, Harry lost it. His bellows were drowned out by the massive thunder that echoed through his small flat. The fight was forgotten quickly when the flash of lightening following the thunder had landed across the courtyard from Harry's flat resulting in the destruction of an entire row of flats.

_That_ Harry couldn't ignore.


	2. The Search for Answers Begins

I would just like to say thank you for all of your lovely reviews and alerting! They really make my day! Sorry this chapter is so short, but it really felt right to end it here. Also, I figured a short update would be better than no update. I'll try to make them longer once the semester is over. Until then, just enjoy.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turns twenty-three in July of 2003. I also haven't chosen a pairing. Feel free to make suggestions.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

Chapter One  
The Search For Answers Begins

"So, you really think that you can _control _the weather?" Ron asked him dubiously.

Nearly a month had passed since both the row between the three friends and the destruction of the row of flats across the courtyard from him, but this was the first time Harry had talked to either of his friends. Angry though he might have been at them before, when he found Ron on the stoop of his flat wearing a sheepish expression, Harry accepted his apology at once. They'd been friends far too long to let one row, even as one as big as that, come between them.

"It's not just the weather," Harry admitted at last. He chewed on his lower lip while letting his words sink in. "I've also been having headaches and these awful dreams...and I think it's all connected."

Ron paled dramatically. His eyes flitted to the faded scar on Harry's forehead. "You don't think it's... you know..." Ron lowered his voice as if he might be overheard, "_him_... do you?"

Harry furrowed his brow. "Who? Voldemort?"

At Ron's nod, Harry continued. "No, I don't think so. I mean, we took care of all the horcruxes, remember? There's no way for him to come back. Plus, it's not my scar that's bothering me. And the dreams aren't about Voldemort. They are about this yellow-eyed man. Only I don't really think he's a man."

Ron gave a shaky little laugh. "Well, that's alright then. That it's not _him_," he explained at Harry's incredulous look. "And you're sure these aren't just dreams?"

Harry shook his head. "No way are these just dreams. It's like... well, it's almost like this man is actually visiting me in my dreams, but that's not possible, is it?"

Now it was Ron's brow who furrowed in confusion. "I don't think so, mate. Even with magic, there are just some things that are impossible. And visiting other people's dreams are one of them. Invading someone's mind is one thing, but dreams... that's your subconscious, yeah? Next to your magical core, it's one of the most sacred places for a wizard. It would take the darkest of magics to do something like that. Black Magic." Ron shuddered. "_If_ it was even possible at all."

"But Voldemort used to invade my dreams all the time!" Harry protested. "So it must be possible."

"Yeah, he did," Ron agreed, "but you were carryin' around a bit of his soul, weren't you, so it's not like you two were exactly strangers."

"Wait a tick. What's Black Magic? Isn't that the same as Dark Magic?" Harry asked.

Ron shuddered once more and cast a furtive look around the room. "No, it's not," he said thickly. "Blimey, mate, I forget that you weren't raised in the magical world. Black Magic is like... well, it's sort of like _The Tales of Beetle the Bard_. Just stories, legends, you know. Only... well, Black Magic is more like a horror story than anything else. Bill tried to tell us about it once. Mum nearly had a fit when she found out. There's nothing worse than Black Magic. _Nothing_. It's like the Unforgivables, but worse... because if you ever use Black Magic, you're damned."

"Damned? Like in the biblical sense of the word?"

Ron gave him a look. "Is there any other sense?"

Harry shrugged. "I just didn't think that wizards believed in the Bible. Magic sort of goes directly against the teachings of the Bible, doesn't it?"

Ron scoffed. "You're forgetting one thing, mate. Muggles only know the version _we_ want them to know. Otherwise, we wouldn't be much of a hidden world. Trust me, there's nothing fake about the Bible."

"Okay, so the Bible's real, but that still doesn't explain what Black Magic is," Harry pointed out impatiently.

Ron sighed and ran a pale hand through his hair. "I don't know much," he said after a minute. "No one does. Not even a slimy dark wizard like Malfoy would admit to knowing about Black Magic. But... there are stories, yeah? About the practitioners of Black Magic. No one knows what Black Magic is, exactly, but back when the world was newer, there were some wizards who discovered its power. They became these twisted, _evil_ creatures that feasted on the souls of innocents..." His voice faltered.

Harry's breath hitched, and he could feel his heart begin to race. "They become what?" he asked.

"_Demons_, they became demons."

A week later, and Harry was no closer to answers then he had been before. If anything, he was more confused than ever. Following his conversation with Ron, he had been searching for anything he could get his hands on that might tell him more about demons, but he had been largely unsuccessful. Ron hadn't been kidding when he talked about the stigma associated with Black Magic and demons. Harry had even gone to Knockturn Alley in his search for answers, but not only had he not found anything, he had been basically kicked out of this dank, dark little second-hand bookshop by the filthy shopkeeper.

"I don't know nothing 'bout any... _demons_," the man had whispered so softly Harry had had to strain to hear him. "Now _leave_ - your lot's not welcome here."

The man was still muttering about Black Magic when Harry left the shop.

Desperate for answers, Harry went to the one person he thought might have answers for him: Xenophilius Lovegood. If Ron said that Black Magic was just a legend, maybe Mr. Lovegood would know about it. He'd known about the Deathly Hallows, hadn't he? It was worth a shot.

He decided to do it that Sunday before dinner at the Burrow. He was filled with apprehension as he Apparated to the Apparition point in Ottery St. Catchpole. The last time he'd gone to Mr. Lovegood for answers, the man had betrayed him to Death Eaters. He tried to remind himself that this was different. There was no war looming on the horizon now, but he couldn't help the anxiety that leaked to the surface. Just as what was now becoming usual, the weather reflected his mood. Dark clouds filled the sky and thunder rumbled in the distance as he made he way up the pathway to the Lovegood's oddly shaped house.

It was Luna who answered the door when he knocked.

"Oh!" She exclaimed in surprise, her stormy eyes widening in surprise, "Hullo Harry."

"Luna, hey. How've you been?"

"Just lovely. Would you like to come in? Father and I were just about to have tea, but you are welcome to join us. Friends often visit one another at tea time."

Guilt flashed through Harry at that. He'd come to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole every week without fail and never once had he visited Luna. He was a terrible friend. "Sure, Luna, thanks."

The inside of Luna's house was just as Harry remembered from his previous visit - even Mr. Lovegood was exactly as he remembered with his eccentric appearance and the towers of books stacked on every available surface.

Upon seeing Harry with Luna, Mr. Lovegood froze. "Ah, Mr. Potter... to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Harry gave the man what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me bend your ear, after tea of course. I'm doing some... research, and I had hoped you might be able to help me. Like you did about the Deathly Hallows."

Mr. Lovegood flushed hotly. "Of course, of course. Always had a bit of a soft spot for inquiring minds."

Tea was a tense affair. Mr. Lovegood hadn't said a word since the tea had been poured. He sat motionless with a vacant expression on his face as Harry and Luna caught up with one another. When tea was over, Luna flitted from the house in order to meet with Rolf, the man she was currently dating.

"So..." Harry said when she was gone. "Look, no hard feelings about before, alright? You did what you had to do."

Mr. Lovegood sucked in a harsh breath but visibly relaxed. "Now, then, you say you're in need of information?"

Harry hesitated. "Yeah. I was wondering what you could tell me about Black Magic."

For a long time, Mr. Lovegood said nothing. When he spoke again, his voice was tremulous. "Black Magic? What makes you think that _I_ would know anything about that?"

Inwardly, Harry kicked himself. "Look, Mr. Lovegood, I'm not saying that you use it or anything!" He took a deep breath to calm himself as a loud clap of thunder sounded. "It's just... you know all sorts of odd things... things that other people think are just fictional, don't you? Like the Hallows."

Mr. Lovegood looked away from the storm that was now raging outside. "Odd weather lately," he murmured. He motioned for Harry to follow him up the winding staircase to a room that was filled to the brim with books and rolls of parchment. He began shifting papers around on a completely covered desk. "Ah ha!" he said softly when he found what it was he was searching for.

"Sometimes, Mr. Potter, truth is hidden in the funniest of places. Take Muggles, for example. Not all Muggles have a tendency to ignore the supernatural. There are some who seek to search out evil, to _hunt_ it down...Wizards have become far too complacent, far too comfortable. It is our nature to ignore the... shall we say... more _unsavory _aspects of the world by trying to place it within the realm of mythology. Hiding the truth, however, does not negate it," he said as he handed Harry a scrap of parchment. "As they say, eventually, the truth will out."

Harry frowned as he read it. "_The truth is hidden in Missouri. _What does that even mean?"

There was a fond smile on Mr. Lovegood's face. "The road to enlightenment has many pathways, but they all pass through Missouri."


	3. Water, water everywhere

Okay, so I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. It certainly isn't how I planned it, but sometimes things get away from you when you're writing. I know that Azazel didn't really visit Sam in his dreams, but we know that he did visit some of the psychic kids in theirs, so that's what I'm basing this portion off of.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turned twenty-three in July of 2003. I also haven't chosen a pairing. Feel free to make suggestions.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

Chapter Two  
Water, water, everywhere but not one drop to drink!

Over the next several weeks, Harry's flat had slowly been transformed until it very much resembled Mr. Lovegood's study. Stacks of books, mostly theological texts, were littered on every available surface. Harry's desk itself was covered with scrolls of parchment and Muggle composition books that Harry used to record any information he thought might be useful. The composition books were, admittedly, relatively empty, considering how little information he had managed to procure from the magical world. The newest addition to Harry's rather cluttered desk was the large map of the United States that Harry was currently hunched over. After his meeting with Mr. Lovegood, which unsurprisingly enough left him with more questions than answers, Harry had searched for what exactly the man had meant by his statement: _The road to enlightenment has many pathways, but they all pass through Missouri. _

It had taken him over a week to realize why that sounded familiar to him. He remembered, albeit very vaguely, learning about Missouri during his primary school days. It was one of fifty states located within the United States. His first reaction was that obviously that had _not _been what Mr. Lovegood meant. Why would Harry be able to discover the truth in the United States of all places? It didn't make any sense, so he simply ignored it.

Until the previous night.

Dreaming of the yellow-eyed man, who he now highly suspected was actually a _demon_, had become a regular occurrence. What was _not_ a regular occurrence was for the conversation to be two-sided. Normally, the dreams consisted of vague references to leading an army, world domination, the resurrection of a supreme evil, you know, the sort of stuff that all megalomaniacs want. It was all highly reminiscent of things he had heard from Voldemort. Mostly, Harry didn't pay it any mind. _Mostly_. But last night had been different. Last night, the yellow-eyed demon had been in an oddly contemplative mood.

"I must admit," the demon had begun by saying, "I hadn't expected much from you, Harry Potter. I didn't even expect you to survive, not really, especially given that none of the others did. So when your powers didn't manifest at your twenty-second birthday, well, I figured you were a dud, but boy was I wrong. Better late than never, I always say. Must be because you're a wizard," the demon mused before shrugging his shoulders carelessly. "I'd never really thought about trying it with wizards, but when I saw your dear old mommy... well, I had to try, didn't I? What a firecracker that one was!"

Harry struggled against the invisible bonds that held him in place. He'd never really thought about it before, but this was the first time he had been restrained in any of these.. dreams, if they were even that. "You shut your filthy mouth about my mum," he snarled instead.

The demon tsked chidingly. "I see I was right in keeping a hold of you tonight. You have such an explosive temper. Lovely weather we've been having lately, by the way, downright apocalyptic," he said, giving Harry a knowing wink. "You're gathering quite a following down below, you know. They're calling you the Master of Death. Back to what I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, though... I wasn't expecting you to survive, but I suppose you do have a habit of doing so. What is it that magical folk call you again? _The Boy-Who-Lived_... Wizards, such extraordinarily foolish creatures. Still, I am pleased by how you've turned out. Such power... such _darkness_..."

Harry interrupted once more. "I am not dark!" he snapped indignantly. "And I'm _not_ the Master of Death! Not anymore, I broke up the Deathly Hallows!"

The demon just cocked his head to the side. "Keep telling yourself that, little wizard, if it makes you feel better, but your dear old daddy knows the truth..."

Harry snorted causing the demon to a raise a sculpted brow. "As if I'd believe a lying _demon_..." Harry muttered.

Once again, the demon shrugged. "Believe me, don't believe me, it doesn't change the facts. Darkness had touched you in the most sacred of places... your _soul_."

"The Horcrux," Harry breathed, "but we - _I _- destroyed it!"

The demon tutted. "Like I said, wizards are such foolish creatures. Whatever are they teaching you at that fancy little school of yours? Let me teach you a little bit of The Truth About Souls 101: wizards don't have the power to _destroy _souls, and while we're on the subject, it's also impossible for one body to house _two _souls."

"But... Dumbledore said that I was housing a bit of Tom Riddle's soul! That's why I had to willingly sacrifice myself - to get rid of it!" Harry was becoming more confused than ever. If it was impossible for two souls to share the same body, and he wasn't saying he agreed with the demon although it sounded like a fairly reasonable assertion - Harry had never fully understood how he was a Horcrux in the first place - then what did that really mean?

"_Ahhh_," said the demon. "I can see I've piqued your interest. Back to The Truth about Souls 101, let's assume that Dumbledore was telling the truth and a portion of Tom Riddle's soul did latch onto yours, his soul, being the more powerful of the two, would have quickly overtaken yours. You wouldn't have even stood a chance, considering your age at the time... take into account the influence of my blood... well, like I said, your soul didn't stand a chance."

Horrified, Harry just stared at the demon. "I don't understand," he finally said, weakly. "How could I not have a soul?"

The demon shook his head. "I never said you didn't have a soul. _That _is another impossibility. You have a soul. The soul of Tom Riddle resides within you. Dumbledore was right about one thing. Horcruxes are a nasty business. Totally unpredictable... if he had known how it would turn out... well, his loss was certainly Hell's gain."

"Let's say I believe you," Harry said after a lengthy silence. "How do you explain me coming back from the dead, huh? I _let_ Voldemort kill me. Didn't even raise my wand when he shot the Killing Curse at me. _That_ was what destroyed that bit of his soul I was carrying around."

The demon smirked. "Afraid that was all my doing - both times. I couldn't just let you die, now could I? Especially since you have such wonderful potential..."

"I'll never use Black Magic," Harry swore hotly.

The yellow-eyed demon just gave a small shrug. "Sure, that's what they all say - at first. But you forget, Harry Potter, that I know you better than anyone else in the world. I know why it is that you hardly ever use magic anymore. I know the urges you just barely manage to suppress, the questions you ask yourself in the dead of night, that pretty little stone you keep hidden beneath your clothes... You say you broke up the Deathly Hallows. You might have, but they certainly haven't stayed broken up, have they? How many times have you tossed that stone into the woods only for it to reappear before you? Better yet, tell me, do your friends know that you chose to keep the Elder Wand? Do they know how it calls to you? How it _yearns _to be used? The things it whispers to you in the darkness?"

Harry's heart was pounding, his breath beginning to come in great gasps. _How could he know? _Harry had never told another soul! Never would tell another soul, if he could help it. _  
_

"I _know_ you, little wizard."

The demon paused, letting his words settle uncomfortably between the two, before giving Harry an indulgent smile. "Soon, you won't be able to ignore the darkness inside. I can't predict how your powers will grow, in what ways they'll manifest, like I said, I've never tried with a wizard before, but from what I can see, your magic complicates things."

"What did you _do _to me?" Harry asked in a horrified whisper.

The demon winked again. "Can't tell... that would be cheating, but you're so very close. You already know where to find the answers you seek..."

Harry had awoken then, gasping for breath. He _did _know that he had to do: go to America, to Missouri.

He tried to ignore the demon's words but found it frightfully difficult to do so. How had he known about Harry's inner turmoil? Turmoil that had been present since he defeated Voldemort, since he became the owner of all three of the Hallows with all of the implications that that held. Dumbledore's words echoed in his head. _You are the worthy possessor of the Hallows_. As if there really were such a thing! As if _he_ was worthy. How Harry hated the demon for knowing the very worst parts of him! The demon may have known some things about him, but there was no way that his soul wasn't his own! He couldn't very well trust the words of a demon, could he? Even if the reason for his continued existence made more sense than the sacrifice of his mother. Hadn't he always wondered what made him so special? Lily Potter couldn't have been the first mother to sacrifice her life for her child, and yet... Harry had lived while others hadn't.

It had taken him several long moments after waking to regain control over his breathing and put the demon's words firmly out of his mind for the moment. If he was going to go to America, he had a lot of planning to do.

The first thing he did was put in his notice at work. Unsurprisingly, this had caused major speculation amidst not only the media and the public but also amidst his friends.

"You can't mean to just drop everything and go gallivanting across America without even discussing this with us!" Hermione exclaimed when Harry told his friends about his plans. "And Xenophilius Lovegood is certainly not the most reliable source of information. You know the sort of rubbish they print in _The Quibbler_, Harry! For goodness sake, don't you remember what he did the last time you went to him for help!"

Harry took a deep breath. "But you're wrong. He might be a little odd, but he can be a reliable source of information. After all, he did know about the Deathly Hallows, didn't he?"

"Well, yes - "

Harry stopped her protests with a shake of his head. "This isn't really up for discussion. I'm going to America. I would like the support of my two oldest friends, but I really don't need it, you know."

A hurt look passed across Hermione's face, but it was Ron who spoke next. "We're not just your friends, Harry. We're your family, and families are supposed to stick together."

"I appreciate that, I do, but we aren't kids anymore, yeah? I don't need to discuss everything I do with you before I make a decision. You can't expect me to do that. Just like I don't expect you to. This isn't just another one of our adventures, Ron. It's something I have to do. _Alone_."

"How did you get so mature?" Hermione asked weakly, brushing a stray tear off of her cheek.

Harry just shrugged and pulled his friend in for a hug. He counted himself lucky to have friends like Hermione and Ron, even if they didn't always see eye and eye.

When the two friends parted, Hermione's look was one of the utmost determination.. "Alright, Harry, since you insist on going at this alone, you'll have to be really careful. Mr. Lovegood was right about not all Muggles being ignorant of the supernatural world. I've read that there are loads of hunters in America."

Harry scrunched his face in confusion. "_Hunters_? What are they?"

"Beats me," Ron said, his face mirroring Harry's confusion.

"They are Muggles who have taken it upon themselves to rid the world of everything they deem to be evil."

Ron looked even more confused. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not always," Hermione told them. "They target anything seen as supernatural, even if it isn't evil, and they don't often wait to find out if there's a difference either. And they don't much care for magic, so you'll have to be sure not to use it where anyone can see you..."

Harry groaned as Hermione went into lecture mode, but secretly, he was thankful for her help. If there was one thing Hermione was good for, it was getting things organized. By the time the three friends headed to the Burrow for Sunday dinner that afternoon, Harry had a very extensive list of everything he needed to do before leaving the country.

* * *

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I was very nervous about Azazel's introduction, so hopefully it's alright!


	4. Complications Abound

I hadn't expected to update so soon, but I am celebrating turning in the last of my papers! I just have to get through finals, and I'll be school and work free for a month! Is the plot moving too slowly for you guys? Should I just hurry up and get him over to America already? Let me know what you think.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turned twenty-three in July of 2003. As of Chapter Three, this chapter, it is approximately February of 2004, some odd eighteen months prior to the beginning of Supernatural Season One.

I also haven't chosen a pairing. Feel free to make suggestions.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

Chapter Three  
Complications Abound

Harry winced at the brightness of the florescent lighting as he entered the government building. A bored looking man, maybe a year or two older than himself directed Harry to the first in a series of check points. He approached the desk reluctantly. He'd seen Dumbledore do this during his lessons about Voldemort, but he'd never done it himself. At the Ministry, Harry, as a junior member, had primarily been delegated to paper work and tea detail which was just another way of saying that he was a grunt. He definitely didn't have any experience in modifying memories or casting the Confundus Charm.

"How may I help you?" The woman sitting at the desk was middle-aged, probably, with hair pulled back so tightly in a bun that even ol' McGonagall wouldn't have found fault with it.

Harry pushed his hair away from his face, which was quickly becoming his newest bad habit ever since he let his hair grow out. He handed her the packet of papers that Hermione had procured for him along with his newly minted driver's license and birth certificate. There was a ridiculous amount of paperwork involved in international travel, not to mention time, Harry thought. "My name is Harry Potter, and I have an appointment with a Mrs. Declan about obtaining my passport using your premium one-day service."

She gave Harry a strict look over the rim of her glasses when he hesitated. "Ah, yes, Mr. Potter. If you would have a seat, Mrs. Declan will be with you as soon as possible."

After a twenty-five minute wait in the most uncomfortable of chairs, it was Harry's turn. As it happens, Mrs. Declan was even stiffer than the previous woman. She took one look at Harry's rather shaggy appearance and frowned. "I trust your paperwork is in order?" she asked.

Harry nodded and passed the packet of paperwork over to her. She frowned as she quickly glanced over the completed forms and identification. "I'm afraid there is a problem. If you are applying for a passport, Mr. Potter, I am going to need to see either your mother or your father's birth certificate."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Err... _why_? I'm an orphan. Both of my parents died when I was a kid."

"Then, you shall have to retrieve them, Mr. Potter, from the General Register's Office," Mrs. Declan replied primly.

He sighed heavily and took a quick look around. No one was paying them the least amount of attention as they were all busy conducting their own business - successfully, he might add, unlike himself. Harry withdrew his wand from the front pocket of his trousers and pointed it at her, whispering the incantation _Confundo _in his head. Aloud, he said. "I think you should find everything in order."

Mrs. Declan's lips thinned as her eyes narrowed. "I most certainly do _not_ find everything in order, and I insist that you put away that stick at once! Unless you wish for me to have charges filed against you for threatening a government official?"

Harry paled. _It hadn't worked! _Well, he'd always been pants at silent casting, hadn't he? He tried muttering the spell next, making sure his made the proper wand movements and everything. "I think you should find everything in order," he said a bit more forcefully for the second time.

This time, Mrs. Declan drew herself up and gave him the most disapproving look that he had ever received. "Mr. Potter, I insist that you desist at once, or I shall be forced to have you forcibly removed from the building. Now, as I've said, we require either your mother or your father's birth certificate when applying for a passport before your twenty-fifth birthday. If you do not have access to these forms, which I must say that I find _quite_ irregular, you may obtain them from, as I told you previously, the General Register's Office."

Blushing hotly, Harry stammered out an apology before slinking out the door. He hurried into the alleyway behind the building. He'd taken a taxi to the office because he'd never had any reason to visit the Identity and Passport Service Office before. Apparating to a location you'd never been to before was tricky, and Harry hadn't wanted to risk splinching himself. Now, however, he wanted to return home quickly and discover why he hadn't been able to successfully confound that Muggle!

"_Apparate!_" Harry intoned picture the alley he always used to travel to and from his flat clearly in his mind.

Nothing happened.

Harry's eyes widened in shock.

He pointed his wand at a pebble in the road and said, "_Wingardium Leviosa!" _

Once again, nothing happened.

He was definitely in trouble.

Cursing beneath his breath, he pulled the tiny cellular telephone out of his trouser pocket. Hermione had been insistent that he carry a telephone on him at all times whilst traveling through America in case something happened to him. He quickly chose Hermione's number from his contact list and waited for her to answer. He didn't have to wait long as she answered nearly straight away.

"What's wrong? I thought you had an appointment at the Identity and Passport Service Office. You didn't run into any problems, did you?" she asked.

"Yes to both! That... horrid little woman, who, by the way, would most definitely make Madame Pinch seem like the most cheerful person around, wouldn't take my paperwork because she said I needed one of my parent's birth certificate! So, I tried to use the Confundus Charm, you know, to speed things up a bit, only... well, it didn't work!"

"I can't believe you, Harry!" Hermione said in a positively scandalized tone. "Using magic against a Muggle, _you_, of all people... I simply can't believe you would ever do such a thing."

Harry scowled, but when he realized that Hermione could not see his expression, he settled for making an aggravated noise. "Well, I didn't, that's what I'm telling you, it didn't work!"

There was a pause. "Come again?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I _tried_ - twice! - to use the Confundus Charm on her, only I couldn't!"

"Are you quite certain that you did it properly? Perhaps you should try again."

"No way!" Harry said at once. "If I try it again, I'm likely to be carted away to the bobbies for _threatening a government official!_ That's just it, though. I came around to the alleyway behind the building, you know, so that I could Apparate home... only.. well, that didn't work either! So I tried to levitate this little pebble and _that_ didn't work either."

"That is most odd. Well, come on over to the Burrow, and we'll get this squared away."

"Didn't you just hear me say that I couldn't Apparate? It's 150 miles, at least, between the Burrow and London! I don't fancy taking a train there, Hermione. That would take loads of time!"

He heard Hermione let out an angry breath. "Obviously I didn't mean for you to Apparate or take the train. Really, Harry! Call for the Knight Bus. You should find that even if your magic is acting up, it will come."

Harry flushed with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't think about the Knight Bus."

"It's quite alright. Now, go on. I'll just stay on the line while you try."

"Alright, then." He pulled out his wand once more and flicked it once, thinking of his need for the Knight Bus.

Nothing happened.

"Err, Hermione? It didn't work."

Hermione sighed. "I'll be right there."

The line went dead about a second before Hermione Apparated into the alley beside him.

"First things first. Give me your paperwork, and I'll go in and take care of it before we go to the Burrow."

Harry gave her a bemused look. "I'm really surprised at you, Hermione! Using magic against a Muggle?"

A pink blush appeared on her cheeks. "Shut it you. Ordinarily, I _would _disapprove, but it's becoming quite plain that you really must discover what's wrong with you, and we simply cannot afford any more delays. I had thought you might be able to arrange a portkey to America, but it looks like you may have to take Muggle transportation, so you'll definitely have to have everything properly filed."

Harry shot his friend a glare. "If I didn't need this ruddy passport, why did I go through all of that stuff just so I could apply for one?"

"As it turns out, you _do_ need that 'ruddy passport,' don't you? And you really should have proper identification while traveling abroad. Now, wait here."

Hermione was in and out of the Identity and Passport Services Office in record time. She handed him the receipt that he would need to bring in when he returned the next day to pick his passport up.

"It's been a while since I Side-Alonged," she warned before grasping his hand.

Harry felt the uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed into an unbearably small place before he disappeared and reappeared on the front lawn of the Burrow.

"Harry, dear, how wonderful to see you!" Mrs. Weasley said when they entered the house. She frowned as she took a good look at him. "Shall I trim your hair for you, dearie?"

"No, thanks, but no," Harry said, giving Mrs. Weasley a broad smile. "Something smells good, is that treacle tart I smell?"

"Are you sure you wouldn't like for me to give you a little trim? Your hair is getting a bit silly, isn't it?"

Luckily, Ron appeared in the doorway just then and intervened on his behalf. "Blimey, Mum, Harry's a grown man, now. I reckon he knows whether or not he wants to have a trim or not, yeah?"

Mrs. Weasley was still muttering beneath her breath as the three of them made their way up to Hermione's room.

Two hours later, and they had exhausted all of Hermione's sources. Hermione gave Harry a disgusted look.

"What?" he asked her, scowling darkly in return.

She sighed. "It's not you. It's just..."

Ron grinned mischievously from his position on the foot of her bed. "She doesn't like not knowing everything."

Hermione glared at her fiance. "Not _everything_, Ronald! But this is really quite troubling, isn't it? Harry's magic is just _gone_. I would think that you would be at least concerned that your best mate's magic has just up and disappeared!"

"_Oi!"_ Harry exclaimed, looking up from Hermione's copy of _1001 Magical Maladies_. "I'll have you know, my magic is not _gone_. I can feel it the same as always. It's my wand that won't work."

"See!" Ron said, though he did look slightly abashed. "Harry's magic's not gone! Have you tried casting a spell without your wand?"

"Oh _really_, Ronald... wandless magic... of all of the ridiculous things you have ever said!"

But Harry was looking at Ron with a new found respect. Why hadn't he thought about that? It was so simple. "Right," he said at last. "So, hand out, you think, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. "Suppose so," he said after a minute. "Sounds about right."

With a shrug of his own, he thrust his hand out. "_Accio_ pillow!"

When nothing happened, Hermione looked entirely too pleased. Harry sighed. Was it too much to ask for things to work out for him? Why hadn't that worked? He knew he hadn't lost his magic because he could feel it! Harry let out an angry breath of his own as he glared at the pillow in question. Just then, the pillow, which Ron had been resting his head on previously, shot across the room and thudded against the wall behind Harry with so much force that the pillow burst open causing the soft downy feathers within to scatter across the room. It didn't just stop with one pillow though. All of the pillows on Hermione's bed zoomed across the room as well and met a similar fate.

All three feather-covered friends exchanged surprised looks.

Ron gave a nervous little laugh before asking, "Did you want a pillow, Harry?"


	5. Endings and Beginnings

This chapter should make some people happy - much happier than the last one did as Harry finally reaches America! I'm afraid there's a bit of a cliffhanger, though! Sorry about that! I have finals on Monday and Tuesday, so I don't expect to be able to update until after then, but I wanted to get this bit out to you guys. Thanks for all of the lovely reviews and alerts.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turned twenty-three in July of 2003. As of Chapter Four, this chapter, it is approximately March of 2004, some odd seventeen months prior to the beginning of Supernatural Season One.

I also haven't chosen a pairing. Feel free to make suggestions.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

Chapter Four  
Endings and Beginnings

"_All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go..."_ Harry sang softly as he took one last look around the flat he had lived in for the past four years. It was odd to see his first home since leaving Hogwarts all boxed up and empty.

Ever since leaving Hogwarts, Harry had become more and more immersed in the Muggle world, especially some of their technology. Magic may be great and all, but in some ways, wizards were seriously lacking. Music was definitely one of them. Wizards only had the Wizard's Wireless while Muggles have the radio along with compact discs and mp3 players where you could hold dozens upon dozens of songs on one tiny little player. And the variety of music offered! It was insane. Not to mention, that with the use of a personal computer you could find practically a plethora of information with only the touch of a button. Harry wasn't as adept as he would like when it came to technology, but he was definitely learning. He had a feeling that this trip would force him to give himself a crash course in Technology 101. That was the way Harry learned best after all. Sink or swim!

Behind him, the door opened revealing Hermione and Ron. "This the last of them?" Ron asked gesturing to the small pile of boxes.

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. I still don't understand why we can't just shrink them," Ron muttered.

Hermione gave him a look. "You know why, Ron. Harry won't be able to unshrink them, will he?"

Ron scowled. "He would if he would just stop being so bloody stubborn and use the wand!"

"_Ronald!" _Hermione hissed before turning to Harry. "He doesn't mean anything by it, you know."

The wand in question, The Elder Wand, had been a point of contention with the three friends ever since Harry confessed to still possessing it. With his own wand no longer responding to his magic, his thoughts had eventually turned to the Elder Wand. In a fit of recklessness, he had removed it from the heavily warded box he kept it in. His wand might not have responded, but the Elder Wand... well, it responded in spades. He had cast a simple spell, _Flora_, that was supposed to just cause a string of flowers to emanate from the end of the wand. When Harry cast it, however, it caused his entire apartment to be filled with flowers of all species, flowers that even three weeks later hadn't died. He'd made the mistake of telling his friends. Hermione, as he had known she would, had remained wary of the wand. Ron, on the other hand, he thought Harry should use it. Who wouldn't want to use the unbeatable Elder Wand? And Harry had been tempted. Severely tempted. He very well might have given in. If he hadn't had another dream about the yellow eyed demon, he very well might have. He could still remember the smarmy look on the demons face when he praised Harry. When he called Harry a prodigy. When he glibly talked about his plans, for the Hallows, for Harry...

Harry clenched his jaw tightly. "No."

"But Harry -" Ron was cut off by the low rumble of thunder. Lightening flashed outside of the flat.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed again, giving him a very pointed look.

"I'm not using it! That's what he wants."

"How do you even know that the demon is counting on that? He could just be showing you what he wants you to know, like _he_ did with Sirius..." Ron's voice trailed off as all of the windows in the room exploded inwardly. The three friends ducked to avoid the flying glass.

"I said _no_."

No one said another word for several seconds. Finally, Hermione raised her wand and cast a shaky, "_Reparo_," sending all of the glass back to its proper place.

"We'll just take the last of these downstairs then, shall we?" Hermione said, exchanging a nervous look with Ron and casting a furtive glance to where Harry was now standing outside the window.

"Sure," Ron said weakly.

When he was alone again, Harry closed his eyes and took several long deep breaths. By the time he opened his eyes once more, the sky was clearing up and the rain had ceased.

"You'll figure this out, Harry, I know you will," Hermione said softly.

Ron was standing at the entrance way. He offered Harry a half-hearted smile. "Just think of this like an adventure, mate."

Harry scoffed. "Yeah, sure... an adventure. Only, I've never done anything like this before, never alone at least . Not really. Hermione's always been the brains of the group, and she won't be there."

Hermione tried to give him a reassuring smile. "Who me? I seem to remember telling you once that I'm all books and cleverness. You're clever, too, Harry. Plus, you're not nearly as alone as you think. We'll be there with you, every step of the way, all you have to do is pick up the phone." She straightened up and wiped a tear from her eyes. "We should be going, or you'll miss your flight."

Hermione and Ron headed out before he did. Harry hesitated before shouldering his satchel. Hermione had been kind enough to enchant his satchel so that it was like the one she'd brought with them while they were hunting for the Horcruxes. He took one last look around his empty flat before heading out the door.

"_I'm leaving on a jet plane... I don't know when I'll be back again,"_ he sang as he closed the door to his old life behind. There was a resounding thud when the door shut. Harry tried to ignore the gut wrenching feeling that he would never return to London again.

When he made it down to the street, he was surprised to find Luna talking to an equally surprised Ron and Hermione. Luna looked extraordinarily out of place on the street of London with her eccentric clothing, her long dirty blonde hair, and her radish earrings.

"Luna, hey," Harry said. "Didn't expect to see you here today.

"Hullo Harry. My dad wanted me to bring you this," she said, indicating the scroll of parchment in her hands. "It's a list of names," she said when she noticed his quizzical look. "Of people who specialize in demons. Daddy has all sorts of contacts in the Muggle world, you know."

"Your dad is brilliant, Luna. Now all I have to do is find the one who lives in Missouri, and I'm all set, yeah?" There was a broad smile on Harry's face now. It seemed like things might just be looking up for a change.

Now Luna's look turned quizzical. "Missouri isn't a place, Harry. Missouri is a person. Didn't Daddy tell you?"

"No," Harry said slowly. "He said all pathways to enlightenment pass through Missouri, or something like that."

"They do," she replied serenely. "I suggest you change your travel arrangements. I hear that South Dakota is particularly lovely this time of year."

"South Dakota?" The three friends said in unison before turning back to Luna. When they turned to where she had been, however, she was nowhere in sight.

Ron shook his head. "Barmy, that one."

Harry had to agree with his friend. "Yeah, barmy, but also... a little scary, yeah?"

They headed back into Harry's flat while he looked over the scroll Luna's father had sent him. There was a list of probably half a dozen or so names, but there were also loads of other things written on it. He would definitely have to read it closely later, but for the moment, he just concentrated on the names. The first name was Bobby Singer. Right next to the name, Mr. Lovegood had scribbled an odd symbol along with what appeared to be a city: Spearfish, South Dakota.

It took several phone calls to both the airport and the hotel in St. Louis, Missouri where he had originally reserved a room before his plans were once again final. He would be flying into Minneapolis, Minnesota before taking another airplane into the tiny town of Spearfish, South Dakota: population 8,600. In the end, he had allowed Hermione and Ron to shrink all of his boxes and take them to the Burrow. They would send them along whenever - and wherever - Harry got settled.

Since Harry had changed his flight, the three friends now had several hours to kill. Hermione wasted no time in pulling out the rather large book Harry had purchased for the trip, _The Magical Guide to the United States of America: What Every Wizard Ought to Know, _to see what it said about South Dakota which, as it turned out, was relatively little.

Despite living primarily in the magical world, Hermione was very proficient with computers and the internet. With Harry's newly purchased laptop and very little effort, she was able to find a little more information about this Bobby Singer. Apparently, he owned a salvage yard in Spearfish. They spent the rest of the their time left together looking for the odd symbol in the ridiculous amount of books that Harry was taking with him in his expandable bag but finding nothing.

When he finally boarded the plane to Minneapolis, he would be lying if he didn't admit that along with the apprehension he felt, he also felt extremely excited. He'd always wanted to travel, to see the world, and now he was getting the chance to do so.

By the time he landed in Minneapolis, Harry was feeling decidedly odd. The restless feeling that had plagued him for weeks was gone, but instead, along with his excitement, there was an undertone of... something that Harry couldn't quite place. Every muscle in his body felt coiled in anticipation of attack, every one of senses was incredibly keen, his heart beat rang in his ears, and yet he was in no discernible danger. He changed planes in Minneapolis successfully, arrived in Spearfish successfully, and even managed to rent an automobile and drive to his hotel - something he had been increasingly nervous about especially due to his novice state as a driver and Hermione's reminders, which she gave to him over and over again, that he should be sure to drive on the proper side of the road - successfully.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen however much he tried. His uneasiness did nothing to sooth the weather which had been stormy from the moment he arrived in Spearfish. Thunder rumbled and lightening crackled as Harry made his way from his rental car to the tiny diner that the woman working at the front desk of his hotel had recommended. It was raining so hard that he was nearly soaked to the bone when he finally did get inside.

The diner was empty except for two men sitting in the far corner, both facing the door. They were whispering in low, fervent tones, with troubled expressions on their faces. Harry hadn't taken two steps into the diner before a plump older woman with bright red hair, who reminded Harry immediately of Mrs. Weasley, greeted him with a smile and a small towel with instructions to sit anywhere he wanted and she would bring him out something to warm him up, all the while tutting over his wet state.

With the two men's eyes on him, Harry settled into a booth near the door. He looked over the menu, looking for anything vaguely familiar to him. His breath hitched in his throat when the waitress returned to his table without his notice, setting a mug filled with hot chocolate and whip cream down in front of him.

"Sorry, hun, didn't mean to scare you! What'll it be?"

Harry cleared his throat. "I'll have the bacon cheeseburger with fries," he said finally. He'd never had a proper cheeseburger before, but Dudley used to eat loads of them, with piles and piles of chips.

At hearing his voice, the waitress's eyes widened. "Long way from home, huh?" she asked.

Harry nodded but said nothing more. The two men in the corner never took their eyes off of him, and it was all he could do not to meet their gazes. Instead, he stared out the window at the storm raging outside.

It didn't take long for the waitress to bring him his food. He was in the process of eating when he noticed one of the men, this one had dark hair and dark eyes, making their way towards the door. As the man passed by him, Harry could have sworn that he heard the man mutter something beneath his breath that sounded remarkably like the word, "_Christo,_" which Harry found very peculiar because it wasn't really a word at all. After passing by Harry, the man seemed to have second thoughts because instead of leaving, like Harry had assumed he was, he turned around and went back to his friend. The two men left together not too longer afterward, so he didn't think much of either them or their strange behavior.

Harry left the diner after eating a heaping slice of apple pie with a large scoop of melting ice cream on top with promises to Irene, the waitress, that he would return the next morning for breakfast. He was halfway across the admittedly small parking lot before he noticed the familiar man leaning casually against his rental car despite the sheets of rain falling.

A lazy grin appeared on the man's face as he came to a halting stop. "Hello Harry, so pleased to finally meet you."


	6. All Tied Up

One last final to go. Then, I promise the chapters will get longer. I wanted to go further with this one, but it seemed like a really good place to stop. Thanks for the reviews and all. Sorry for any lingering questions the last chapter might have had about the identity of the two men at the diner. This should clear that up.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turned twenty-three in July of 2003. As of Chapter Four, this chapter, it is approximately March of 2004, some odd seventeen months prior to the beginning of Supernatural Season One.

I also haven't chosen a pairing. Feel free to make suggestions.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

THEN

Harry left the diner after eating a heaping slice of apple pie with a large scoop of melting ice cream on top with promises to Irene, the waitress, that he would return the next morning for breakfast. He was halfway across the admittedly small parking lot before he noticed the familiar man leaning casually against his rental car despite the sheets of rain falling.

A lazy grin appeared on the man's face as he came to a halting stop. "Hello Harry, so pleased to finally meet you."

NOW

Chapter Five  
All Tied Up

Every muscle in Harry's body coiled in preparation for attack. His hand itched to reach into his trouser pocket, which just happened to hold the Elder Wand, and use it, but he found himself unable to move. Not that he would have gone for his wand anyway. Besides the fact that he was in plain view of the Muggles, he had no idea just what sort of spell would be useful against a demon. He glared hatefully at the yellow-eyed demon in front of him.

"_You!_" He tried to put as much hate in that single word as was humanly possible, but it did not seem to faze the demon at all.

The demon's grin widened. "Me," he agreed cheerfully. "I had to come and give my boy a proper welcome to America, didn't I?"

"I'm not your anything!" Harry snarled. "And how did you know where I was anyway?_"_

The demon gestured at his surroundings. "Well, you're not exactly subtle, are you?" he replied with an easy laugh as bolt of lightening that was so close to them Harry could feel the static discharge from where he stood, lit up the sky.

Embarrassed, Harry flushed. He opened his mouth to speak, but the demon cut him off with a wave. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm touched, really, by your obvious need to impress me. It worked, by the way, all your daddy issues aside. I _am_ impressed."

"I don't have daddy issues!" He spat out. "And I wasn't trying to impress you!"

The demon tsked. "Wit is obviously not your forte. We'll have to work on that, Sparky. You don't mind if I call you Sparky, do you?" The demon ignored Harry's quelling look, but did give Harry a surprised look when the car he had been leaning against began to shake.

"My, my, you are just full of surprises." He paused as he looked at something over Harry's shoulder and frowned. "It seems visiting time is about to be cut short, but one last thing before I skedaddle out of here. How about you hand over that little wand that you've got hidden away in your pocket, and we'll call it a day?"

Harry couldn't help himself: he laughed out loud. "I'm not giving the Elder Wand to _you!_ Why do you want it, anyway? You don't have any magic, you're a demon!"

The demon grimaced. "That was low, Sparky, really. Not to mention completely untrue. Plus, who wouldn't want an unbeatable wand? Except for you that is," he mused before continuing. "Now be a good boy and give the wand to daddy!"

Harry was about to snarl out that he was most certainly _not_ Harry's father when he paused. Harry was completely at his mercy. If the demon wanted the Elder Wand, and despite his careless facade, Harry could see a gleam in his eyes whenever the demon spoke about the Hallow, there was nothing stopping him from reaching into Harry's pocket and taking it. Was there? Realization hit him then. "You can't take it without my permission, can you?"

But the demon was no longer looking at Harry. He was looking over Harry's shoulder again. "John Winchester... as I live and breath. The years have not been kind to you, I must say. You've let yourself go. A shame, really. Well, I wish I could stay and chat, but I've got things to do and places to go. Or is that the other way around?"

When the man, John, was level with Harry, he realized it was the same man from the diner. He was holding a peculiar looking gun in his hand, or Harry assumed it was a gun. It certainly didn't look like the guns he'd seen on the telly. John pointed the gun at the yellow-eyed demon with no hesitation. Why did the name John Winchester sound so familiar to him? He was almost certain he had heard it before, but where?

"Let the boy go," he commanded.

The demon cocked his head to the side. "_This_ boy?" he asked, indicating Harry.

The other man from the diner joined them then. He was holding a small book and a flask. "No, the other boy, you idjit!" The man said before flicking the flask in the demon's direction and splashing him with water.

The demon let out a long suffering sigh as he immobilized the two men with a flick of his wrist. _"_Was that really called for? We were having such a nice chat. Anywho, I really must be off." He covered the distance between himself and Harry in two steps and reached out with one hand. He brushed Harry's wet hair out of his face, uncovering the faded lightening-bolt shaped scar located on his forehead. A pale finger traced the length of the scar.

He stepped back before opening his mouth and releasing an odd-smelling black smoke. When the smoke dissipated, the man dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and Harry was released from his invisible bonds.

"Thanks," he told the two men releasing a relieved breath. "Wasn't sure how I was going to get out of that one!"

He turned to face the two men only to find them nowhere to be seen. He shrugged before grabbing the keys from his pocket. A scalding hot bath was definitely in order. A bath followed directly by a telephone call to one Hermione Granger. He wanted to tell her about the demon's interest in the Elder Wand straight away. Before he had a chance to make it to his car, let alone into a bath, something impacted with the back of his head hard enough to knock him unconscious. The last thing he saw before darkness pulled him under were the two men from before.

When Harry came to, he was sitting in a dinning room chair tied up. A quick glance around the room let him know he was also not alone. The aforementioned John Winchester was staring at him with a harsh expression on his face while the other man, whose name Harry did not know, stood next to him, his expression unreadable. Just behind the two men, Harry could also see his satchel sitting on the table. If the scorch marks were any indication, someone, more than likely those two, had attempted to tamper with it. No one but Harry could touch it, though, thanks to Hermione's brilliance.

"What were you doing with Yellow-Eyes?" John demanded as soon as he noticed Harry was awake.

"Being held against my will. Seems to have become a habit of mine since coming to America -" Harry was cut off by John splashing water from a plastic bottle into his face. He spluttered for a moment before glaring at John. "What was that for?"

"I'm going to ask you again. What were you doing with Yellow-Eyes?" He said before picking up a container of some white crystallized substance.

_Was that salt_? Harry wondered incredulously. Nutters, the both of them. "Look, I told you. Being held against my will! Should be familiar to you. You know, seeing as how that's what you're doing now. Which, by the way, I really don't appreciate."

"Don't lie to me!" John snarled. He tossed a handful of salt into Harry's face.

Without even meaning to, Harry's tongue darted out to taste the powder that now coated his lips and face. Salt. Definitely salt. Nutter. Harry turned to the other man who was casting a wary look in John's direction. He didn't look quite as mad as John. "I'm not lying. I was leaving the diner after eating supper when the demon - Yellow-Eyes - accosted me at my rental car. Then you lot showed up, and he did that whole, you know, bit with the black smoke. I was just heading back to my motel when you two assaulted and kidnapped me."

It was then that the other man spoke for the first time since Harry waking up. "How did you know it was a demon?"

"Besides the fact that he told me?" Harry asked pointedly. "I didn't even know demons existed until a few months ago. Didn't really believe it until just then. First time I've set eyes on one. In person at least."

John went to move forward, but the other man put a hand on his arm and stopped him. The man turned back to Harry, pulling a very familiar piece of paper out of his pocket. "What is this?" he asked, his tone more curious than anything.

Harry chewed on his lower lip. "A spare bit of parchment?" he tried.

The man shook his head. "Try again. Where did you get this?"

"A friend of mine gave it to me!" Harry said finally. "What business of yours is it anyway? Last I checked that was in my trouser pocket."

John broke the man's grip and backhanded Harry across the face. "It's _our_ business, demon, when your 'bit of parchment' contains not only our names, but the names of half a dozen of our friends."

Harry spat the blood from his now busted lip into the floor. "I'm _not_ a demon, you complete nutter!"

John cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Why else would Yellow-Eyes refer to himself as your _daddy_?"

Harry scoffed. "Oh, I don't know... because he's mad? Just like you lot apparently."

John raised his hand again, but this time the man put himself between him and Harry. "I think he's telling the truth, John. Boy's no demon. You've seen that for yourself."

John's look turned stony, but he did lower his hand. "Fine, he's no demon," he bit out. "That still doesn't explain why he's got that handy little list, now, does it?"

Harry sighed heavily. "My friend's father gave it to me when he found out I wanted to get in touch with someone who knew about demons. Your names, apparently, were on there."

"Your friend's father," the man started, "he wouldn't happen to be British as well, would he?"

"Well, yeah."

He considered this for a moment. "He have blonde hair? About ye high? More than a little crazy?"

Harry nodded to all of the above. "That's right."

"And he just gave you a list the list?" Now the man sounded skeptical.

"Well, not straight away. He's a bit barmy, yeah? First, he said some rubbish about the pathway of enlightenment passing through Missouri. So, I thought he meant the state, but it turns out, he wasn't talking about a place at all! Then, right before I was about to leave, my friend showed up at my flat with that parchment saying that her father had contacts in the Mug- I mean, America, that might know something about demons and that I ought to go to South Dakota, and well... here I am."

John hadn't caught Harry's slip, but the other man had. He was staring at Harry with an astonished look on his face while John paced back and forth in front of him. "And we're supposed to believe that it's just a what, coincidence, that both you and the demon both happen to be in the very same town where Bobby lives?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "Me being in the same city as the Bobby Singer on that list is definitely no coincidence. I came looking for information, remember? The demon, though? That's all coincidence."

The man let out an exasperated breath, pushing John out of the way. "Bobby Singer, at your service."

* * *

A/N: How'd you guys like the interactions in this chapter? Hopefully, I did John justice. I'm a bit worried about that. Also, for anyone who is wondering why Harry's powers aren't going crazy since he's obviously in danger. John thought he might be a demon at first, so they didn't hold back. He's sitting beneath a devil's trap. He's definitely not a demon, but his powers are affected when he's being held in a demon trap. I'll explain this more at a later point, I promise.


	7. Of Hunters and Deals

Sorry this is a bit late! I was a little unsure of how to continue, but I think I got it now. Happy Holidays everyone!

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turned twenty-three in July of 2003. As of Chapter Four, this chapter, it is approximately March of 2004, some odd seventeen months prior to the beginning of Supernatural Season One.

I also haven't chosen a pairing. Feel free to make suggestions.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

THEN

John hadn't caught Harry's slip, but the other man had. He was staring at Harry with an astonished look on his face while John paced back and forth in front of him. "And we're supposed to believe that it's just a what, coincidence, that both you and the demon both happen to be in the very same town where Bobby lives?"

Harry shook his head slowly. "Me being in the same city as the Bobby Singer on that list is definitely no coincidence. I came looking for information, remember? The demon, though? That's all coincidence."

The man let out an exasperated breath, pushing John out of the way. "Bobby Singer, at your service."

NOW

Chapter Six  
Of Hunters and Deals

"So, mind telling me exactly what information you are looking for?" Bobby asked.

The three men were sitting at the dining room table. Bobby and John were nursing two beers, while Harry, who hadn't taken a fancy to Muggle beers was sipping on a glass of sweet tea. It hadn't taken long for Bobby to untie Harry, especially once he learned exactly who he was. Harry had assumed, by the look of recognition on Bobby's face when he'd slipped up before, that the man was at the very least familiar with the Wizarding World. Really, Harry should have realized that he was aware of the Wizarding World since he knew Mr. Lovegood. While Bobby hadn't said a word about him being _The _Harry Potter, which Harry felt rather certain was because of John Winchester, his face told Harry everything he needed to know: he definitely knew of the Wizarding World and Harry's place in said world.

Harry eyed the two men warily. "Anything you know about that demon. Or any demon, really."

"Well, if it's demons you want to know about, I can help you with that. If it's _that _demon, in particular, John here would be your best bet. He's been hunting it for over twenty years."

John sucked in a harsh breath and glared at Bobby for a moment before finally turning to look at Harry. "Why are you interested in the demon? Seems to me like you're just sticking your nose in where it doesn't belong."

Bobby stepped in when Harry hesitated. "It'll be harder to help you if we don't know what's going on. Not impossible, but definitely harder," he said reasonably. "Trust me, you ain't gonna tell us nothing we hadn't heard before."

Harry stood up and walked over to the window. It wasn't storming like it had been before, but Harry could see the wind whipping through the salvage yard. "It started off as headaches. These horrid, _horrid_, headaches. Nothing got rid of them. Then came the dreams. I started dreaming about that yellow-eyed demon. Rather he was visiting my dreams."

"What's the difference?" Bobby asked.

Harry turned around so that he was facing the two men. "I can't explain it, not properly at any rate. I just knew from the beginning that they weren't really dreams."

"So, the demon just visited you in your dreams?" John's words were mocking and full of derision. "And what did he do in these so-called visits?"

Harry shrugged. "What most megalomaniacs that I've ever encountered do. Posturing mostly. You know, diatribes about the apocalypse, world domination, and the like. Not exactly humble, is he?" He let out an uneasy little laugh before continuing. "Either of you notice the odd weather in the UK over the last year? The elevated temperatures and the storms?"

Bobby nodded reluctantly while John simply stared at the table with an unfathomable expression on his face. "I did notice," Bobby admitted after a minute.

"It started not too longer after the headaches and dreams. Somehow, and I still don't understand how, but somehow _I_ was affecting the weather - still am, in fact, if you hadn't noticed - and that demon is the reason why. He did something to me_. _I don't know what he did, or how he did it, only that he did do it. And I'm not the only one he's done it to either."

John's head shot up at that, and he looked at Harry as if seeing him for the first time. "What do you think he did to you?" he asked but unlike before, this question seemed to be genuine.

Once more, Harry shrugged. "No clue, but whatever he did, he definitely didn't do out of the goodness of his heart. He said he has plans for us - the nutter calls us his psychic children, you know? Mad, that one - and I believe him. I'm not an expert by any means, I know demons lie, but I don't think he's lying about that."

"Did your mother die in a house fire?" John's next question was asked with clinical coldness, almost as if he was asking nothing more than the state of the weather.

Harry flinched as he saw the familiar flash of green light and heard Voldemort's high-pitched laughter once again. Ever since the demon began visiting his dreams, he had been thinking more and more about his parents and their deaths, and he really never could quite manage to forget what he saw whenever the dementors were near. "No," he breathed finally. "Not a house fire. She was murdered. Both of my parents were murdered."

John looked thoroughly confused. "You don't fit the pattern," he said, at last, underneath his breath.

Now it was Bobby's turn to look confused and, well, a bit angry, if Harry were being honest. "What pattern are you talking about?"

But the man refused to say another word about the subject.

When Bobby took Harry back to the diner a short while later, he finally breached the conversation about Harry's status as a wizard. "I know what you are."

Harry cast a nervous glance in his direction. "I thought you might."

"I'm not going to hurt you, kid. If I thought for one minute that you were one of those Death Eaters or a deal witch, I would blast you in a heartbeat, but I think both of us know you wouldn't do anything like that. The Boy-Who-Lived." Bobby gave a low whistle. "That demon sure knows how to pick 'em."

"Will you help me?" Harry asked before getting out of Bobby's truck.

"Demonic activity has tripled in the last six months. Most years there's only a handful of possessions all year long. There's been eleven so far this year. Something big is going to happen soon, and we all need to be ready for it. So yeah, I'll help you. But don't expect me to go easy on you. You might be a wizard, and the Chosen One, but you don't stand a chance against _one_ demon, much less THE demon."

Harry's eyes widened. He'd never had much physical training before unless you counted his childhood runs from Dudley and his game of Harry hunting which Harry most certainly did _not _count.

Bobby seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking because he chuckled and said, "Research, kid. I'm talkin' about research. Hunters seem to be allergic to it, just like you wizards are allergic to physical labor. Never met a more lazy bunch of idjits in my life."

Harry deflated visibly. Research had always been Hermione's are of expertise, but he wasn't one to balk in the face of adversity. "I've got a laptop, but I can't make heads or tails of it. It might be a bit wonky," he admitted after a minute. "We - my friend, Hermione, and I - tried to enchant it, so I could connect to any network even those with security codes, but sometimes magic and technology doesn't exactly go hand in hand."

"Bring it and yourself back to the house tomorrow after breakfast, and I'll see what I can do."

Harry nodded and went to get out of the truck.

"One more thing. I wouldn't go mentioning magic around John Winchester. Man's got an explosive temper, and the patience of a three-year-old - two things that don't really mix. He's not a bad man, but he's more of the act now and think later school of thought than most hunters if you know what I mean."

Harry most certainly did, as his busted lip was a testament to that.

The first thing Harry did when he got to his hotel room was dial Hermione's telephone number. She answered it after several rings sounding winded. "That isn't good, Harry," she said after he told her about his encounter with the demon. "I'll see what I can find out and let you know."

"Thanks, Hermione. I knew I could count on you," he said before hanging up his phone.

That night, Harry's dreams took a different turn. He dreamed of his mother, something that under normal circumstances wouldn't have been odd at all. Only, this was more like he was viewing his mother's memory. It was so vivid that Harry could smell the scent he had come to associate with autumn that permeated the air, feel the sunshine as it fell on his mother's face, hear the breeze rustling through the trees. A very pregnant Lily was sitting on a bench at a Muggle play park. He watched as a man approached his mother from behind. It wasn't the same man Harry had seen in his other dreams or even the one he'd seen the previous day, but he knew that it was the demon, the one with the yellow eyes.

"Kinda reckless, isn't it, for you to be wandering about alone, Lily?" The demon asked as it settled itself down carelessly beside her, a lazy grin spread out on its face.

Harry watched as his mother stiffened and went to pull her wand.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," He warned, indicating her swollen stomach. "It would be a shame if any harm were to come of your unborn child. They say he's the Prophecy Child. You must be so excited."

Lily paled and wrapped one arm protectively across her stomach. "What do you want?" she asked in a tremulous voice.

"Is that any way to treat someone who's come to offer you his help?" the demon asked in a most offended manner.

Lily sneered, an act that looked quite unusual on her pretty face. "And why would I want your help? You're a Death Eater, aren't you?"

"Why, Lily, I'm wounded, really. As for why you would want my help? I was thinking for the life of your unborn baby. You _do _want him to live, do you not? I can help you with that."

There was a long pause. The expression on Lily's face was torn. "_How_?" she finally whispered.

Now the demon gave her a wide, indulgent smile. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about that. All you have to do is make me one little promise, and you'll never have to worry about the Dark Lord again."

Lily hesitated for the briefest of moment before a look of utmost consternation won out. "No."

"Alright," the demon said easily. "Have it your way - _for now_. "

The scene changed. Harry found himself back in the same Muggle play park, but this time, Lily Potter was accompanied by a very young Harry Potter. Harry couldn't have been more than a year old.

Like before, the demon approached Lily almost immediately. "Such a cute kid. Powerful, too. I can feel it, you know," he started conversationally. "It's a shame he won't survive the year."

Lily's wand was in the demon's hand almost as soon as she pulled it out. "_What do you want?" _she hissed angrily.

"To make you the same offer I made before," the demon replied. "That's all."

"Go to hell!"

"Been there," it said breezily. "Didn't care for it. Bit too warm for my tastes."

"I'll never make a deal with you," Lily swore hotly.

The demon shook his head at the witch, but he did leave, only staying long enough to say: "Never say never."

The next scene was remarkably different. A haggard Lily was standing in the middle of an intricate rune in the middle of a field. The demon appeared out of thin air looking thoroughly astonished. "Why Lily... I didn't know you had it in you. Black Magic... who would have thought it possible?"

"Were you lying before?" There was a hysterical edge to her voice that hadn't been there before. "About being able to save Harry."

"Cross my heart and hope to die," the demon said.

"Do it, then. Whatever it takes. Keep him safe. _Whatever it takes!_"

"All it takes in one little invitation, that's all. Just an invitation, and I'll do everything in my power to keep him safe."

Lily nodded her head, but the demon tutted. "None of that, little witch." He ran a hand down Lily's cheek. "You have to say the words. Do we have a deal?"

"_Yes_."

There was a pause before the demon prompted Lily. "You'll have to let me in on the _secret..."_

Lily was trembling as she reached into her pocket and fumbled for a scrap of parchment. Her vision was blurred with tears when she pushed the paper into his hands. "Read it," she bit out.

"The Potters live at 18 Peverell Rd, Godric's Hollow." The demon's smile was beatific. "One more thing to seal the deal." He crossed the rune easily and crushed his lips to hers.

The scene faded leaving only the demon behind. "Never expected your mommy to become a practitioner of Black Magic, did you? To be honest, neither did I. Damned her own soul to save your life, you know. Twenty-two years in hell is an awfully long time, and she still hasn't broken. Give me the Elder Wand, Harry Potter, and I'll pull pretty little Lily Potter from hell myself. You have a week to decide."

Harry woke up screaming.

* * *

A/N: So, what do you think? I wasn't sure if this would be OOC for Lily, but I just couldn't get it out of my head!


	8. Of Freaky Psychics and Winchesters

Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and New Year's. It's been a bit insane around here, so it was hard to get any writing done. Hopefully it won't take so long to update next time. Thanks for all of your reviews and alerts. I continue to be amazed by the response of this fic as I was very reluctant in the beginning to even pursue this.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors! If you would like to offer up your services, feel free to do so!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turned twenty-three in July of 2003. As of Chapter Four, this chapter, it is approximately March of 2004, some odd seventeen months prior to the beginning of Supernatural Season One. However, things will not progress at the same speed as they did in the series. I'm not certain how they will proceed, but I can say with some certainty that I will not be going episode to episode. Where's the fun in that, anyway?

I also haven't chosen a pairing. I'm thinking of either Sam, Dean, or maybe Castiel. It really depends on how things progress. It's still fairly early, though, so anything's possible.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

THEN

The scene faded leaving only the demon behind. "Never expected your mommy to become a practitioner of Black Magic, did you? To be honest, neither did I. Damned her own soul to save your life, you know. Twenty-two years in hell is an awfully long time, and she still hasn't broken. Give me the Elder Wand, Harry Potter, and I'll pull pretty little Lily Potter from hell myself. You have a week to decide."

Harry woke up screaming.

NOW

Chapter Seven  
Of freaky psychics and Winchesters

"Harry, calm down and listen to yourself. You aren't making any sense! It simply isn't possible for your mother to be in hell," Hermione tried to reason with him.

A day had passed since Harry's disturbing dream. A day in which Harry had done nothing but replay the demon's words over and over again. Now, he was pacing back and forth in his motel room while Ron and Hermione watched him from their bed through the two-way mirror Hermione had enchanted before Harry's departure, both of their expressions worried.

"Hermione's right, mate. You said it yourself that you've seen her twice before. Once when You-Know-Who was resurrected and then again at the end, right? When you used the Resurrection Stone?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I did," he admitted - albeit reluctantly.

Ron looked visibly relieved. "Well, that's that. Your mum can't be in hell then. Not if you were able to see her. It doesn't work that way."

Hermione gave Ron a look before turning back to Harry. She dithered about for a moment before finally speaking. "I _know_ that you say these... dreams... are real, but what if they aren't? You really thought that Voldemort had Sirius fifth year, too, and that turned out to be a false vision."

The lights began to flicker in the room as Harry sucked in a harsh breath and glowered at Hermione, but she continued. "You just... Harry, you _mustn't _give him that wand! It wouldn't be good for anyone with nefarious intentions to obtain it, but for a demon? It would be catastrophic. I've been doing some research, not much yet, mind, but enough. Demons are remarkably similar to Death Eaters, you know. They're sycophants. Only instead of working for a Dark Lord, they work for Lucifer."

Ron made a displeased noise and flinched. "_Hermione!" _he groaned. "You can't go about saying _his _name!"

"Lucifer?" asked Harry, brow furrowed in confusion. "Who's that?"

Hermione sighed. She addressed Ron first. "I refuse to adhere to some archaic, pure-blood, superstition! Professor Dumbledore always said that fear of the name only increases fear of the thing itself." She turned to Harry next. "You might know Lucifer better as Satan."

When Harry still look confused, Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "The devil! Demons work for the devil."

"_Oh!_" Harry exclaimed. "That makes sense."

"That's not the only similarity between the two groups," Hermione said, pressing on. "Like Voldemort, Lucifer's been defeated, but instead of being killed, he's only imprisoned."

Ron looked completely flummoxed at that bit of information. "Are you saying that Lucifer's locked up in Azkaban?"

"Of course not!" Hermione said in a sharp tone. "He's imprisoned in hell, obviously."

"Okay," Ron said, drawing the word out. "What's this got to do with Harry giving the Elder Wand to that demon, though?"

Hermione let out an exasperated breath. "It has everything to do with Harry allowing the Elder Wand to fall into the hands of a demon. What exactly do _you _think that a demon would do with an unbeatable wand?"

Realization dawned on both Harry's and Ron's faces.

Harry sank down onto the other bed, deflated. He ran his free hand through his disheveled hair. "So, what do I do? Just ignore him?" he asked.

There was a pause. Hermione seemed to be gathering courage for her next words. "I think you should come home, Harry."

"_What?_" Both boys shouted at once.

"No way," Harry continued. "No way am I coming back home. Not when I've finally found someone who may be able to help me."

"Because he helped you so much before!" Hermione retorted scathingly before pausing. "I'm sorry. I'm just - I'm so worried about you, Harry. Everything always seems to happen to you, and so much of this is unexplainable. I don't know how to help you." Tears glistened in her eyes. "Please, just... come home. We'll face this - whatever it is - together. Just like we've always done."

There was a large part of Harry - and growing larger every second - that wanted nothing more than to do just that. "I can't. I think, I really think, that if I stay here then I'll be able to figure it all out. And you _are _helping me. Just keep on researching, yeah? I'll be fine. I promise."

"See, he'll be fine," Ron said in an attempt to soothe his fiance. "He won't do anything reckless, will you, Harry?"

Harry gave his friends his best attempt at a smile. "'Course I won't. Scout's honor and all that."

The three friends talked for a bit longer before Harry tucked the two-way mirror away. He pulled the Elder Wand out of his satchel and twirled it between his fingers.

"So much fuss over you..." he murmured beneath his breath as he fell back against the lumpy mattress. He thought of all of the powerful wizards who had coveted and wielded this wand in the past and just how many deaths it had caused. Voldemort had killed both Grindelwald and Snape in an attempt to become its rightful owner. Hermione was right. Harry couldn't just give it to the demon. No matter what lies he told him. Not that knowing this made it any easier to ignore the demon's words. The thought of his mum in hell... it was beyond all comprehension. He couldn't bear to think of it.

After another sleepless night, Harry, with the Elder Wand safely stowed away in his trouser pocket, drove over to Bobby Singer's house. He nearly left when he noticed that Bobby already had company in the form of a sleek black car, but before he could flee, Bobby stuck his head out of the front door and waved Harry inside.

"Thought you might have changed your mind when you didn't show up yesterday," Bobby said when a drenched Harry made it up to the house. His eyes widened when he took in Harry's bedraggled appearance.

"Oh, er, ran into a bit of trouble. Sorry about that," Harry flushed and made an attempt to straighten both his wet clothing and hair. He still felt mildly self-conscious wearing Muggle clothing. Before, his Muggle clothing largely consisted of Dudley's hand-me-downs. Now, however, it was largely designer. Not that he cared about that sort of thing, because he didn't, but he was pants at shopping. It was much easier to simply go into Harrod's and use their personal shopper service even if he thought he looked like a right ponce.

Bobby let out a low whistle. "A bit?" he asked incredulously, stepping aside so Harry could enter the house first. "Storm's been getting steadily worse since yesterday morning. Mind explaining that?"

Harry scowled. "Not so much."

The older man considered the wizard in front of him for a moment. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to continue to press Harry for answers, but finally he nodded and tossed him a dry towel. "Come on into the kitchen. Got someone I'd like you to meet."

Grateful for the distraction, Harry followed. The first thing he noticed when he entered the kitchen was a sandy-haired man that appeared to be a year or two older than himself, cleaning some sort of gun.

"Harry, this is Dean. He's one of John's boys. Dean, this is Harry. I'm betting your dad's already told you about him," Bobby said before walking out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Dean looked up from his gun for the first time since the two men had entered the kitchen. His green eyes narrowed suspiciously when he caught sight of Harry. "Oh yeah, Dad told me _all _about him. Said he can't be trusted."

Harry bristled at both Dean's tone and the fact that he was talking about him as if he wasn't even in the same room. "Is that right? Well, your dad's a bit of a nutter, isn't he, so he can't exactly be trusted either. Off his rocker, he is."

"Knock it off, both of you. We've got work to do. Harry's got a lot of stuff to learn and not much time to learn it in." Bobby dropped two large books on the table. "Get started, boys."

If Harry thought this research in particular was going to be interesting he was very much mistaken. After only an hour, Harry's eyes were beginning to droop. As if on cue, Bobby sat one steaming cup of coffee down in front of Harry and another in front of Dean. "Thought you could do with some fuel. There's sandwich fixings in the fridge if you're hungry and cream and sugar on the counter if you need some. Can I trust the two of you to not kill each other long enough for me to take care of some business? I've got some errands to run, but I shouldn't be gone too long."

Dean and Harry both scowled as their eyes met, but, in the end, did agree to get along, or at the very least, not to kill one another. For the moment, that is.

Harry eyed the cup with some trepidation after Bobby left the two of them alone. He wasn't usually a huge fan of coffee, but he wasn't one to turn down food, or drink as the case may be. It only took one sip for him to determine that yes he would definitely need both cream and sugar. Dean watched on with amusement as Harry poured copious amounts of both cream and sugar into his cup before finally being satisfied with the taste.

"That's the same way Sammy drinks his," Dean commented as he took a drink of his own.

"Sammy your brother?" Harry asked.

Dean didn't even bother to look away from his book when he answered. "Yeah, he is. You got a brother?"

"No," was Harry's curt response.

Silence reigned for several minutes while the two continued looking over their respective books before Dean spoke again. "There's one thing Dad didn't tell me."

There was a loud clunk as Dean dropped the book down on the table. Harry looked up to find Dean staring at him with a great amount of curiosity.

"Oh really? What's that?"

Dean stretched and yawned loudly before continuing. "What makes you so special? Dad seems to think you and Sammy have some kinda freaky connection going on. Me? I don't buy it, but whatever you told my dad must have been pretty convincing because he left this morning for California to check on him."

Nonplussed by Dean's disbelief, Harry shrugged. "Honestly? I don't know anything about your brother. Could be that he's another of the demon's psychic kids, but like I said, I don't know anything about him."

Dean scoffed. "No way is Sammy some freaky psychic. There's not one freaky bone in his body."

Now Harry set his book aside. "How old is he?" he asked, curious in spite of himself.

"Why?" Dean's look was suspicious once again, and his voice was tense.

"Well, the demon told me before that the psychic powers, or whatever they are, don't usually manifest until you turn twenty-two. I was a bit of a late-bloomer since mine didn't start until I was twenty-three. If your brother isn't twenty-two yet, well, then that's why he hasn't manifested any of sort of psychic abilities," Harry said.

This didn't seem to sit too well with Dean. He frowned, his forehead wrinkling in the process. "Sammy'll turn twenty-one in May."

"Oh, well, then obviously he doesn't have any psychic abilities. Not yet any rate," Harry said reasonably, picking up his book once more.

"So, are you really controlling the weather? Because I have to say that I'm getting pretty sick of all of this rain. Can't you... I dunno, work some of your psychic mojo and get rid of it?"

Harry grimaced. "It doesn't work that way. I'm not sure how it works, really. My friend Hermione thinks it's tied to my emotional state, which is probably true because Hermione's nearly always right."

Dean went back to his book though he kept one eye on Harry as he read, muttering beneath his breath about "freaky psychics."

This was their pattern for the next three days. Harry spent his nights dreaming of his mum being tortured in hell while he spent all of his time from sun up to sun down going through book after book. In between books, Dean and Bobby taught him some of the more basic aspects of hunting - like how to use salt to keep both spirits and demons from entering a room. Bobby taught both Dean and Harry how to use a symbol called a devil's trap to bind demons should they have need of it. Harry recognized the symbol from the other day. He hadn't noticed before, but whenever he touched one of the symbols or got near it, he felt decidedly odd. Weakened almost. He thought better of mentioning it to the two hunters who would most assuredly be suspicious of it, but he did tell Hermione during one of their daily chats.

What Harry did _not _tell her was about his continued dreams or the fact that he could scarcely go for an hour without touching the Elder Wand, assuring himself that it was indeed safe. He also did not tell her that the urge to use the wand was growing stronger every day. This was only partly because he was still trying to convince himself that it wasn't the case. If lying to his friends had become commonplace, lying to himself had become almost second nature.

By the fourth morning, the atmosphere at Bobby's house was beginning to become fairly tense. There had been no word from John since his departure, and Dean was adamant that his dad had met with foul play.

"I'm telling you, Bobby, something's not right. It's not like Dad to just disappear like that," Dean said.

"And I'm telling you that your daddy is a grown man. He can take care of himself. If something's happened, and I'm not saying that it has, but if it has, he's more than capable of handling it. He's been doing this for over twenty years now," Bobby responded, but he didn't seem entirely convinced.

"Well, if it's all the same, I think I'll head out to California myself," Dean said.

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why don't you just ring him up? You do have a mobile, don't you?" he asked.

Surprised by Harry's input, both hunters whipped their heads around to where Harry was standing. While the three men had come to an agreement of sorts, there was still a certain gulf between them. They seemed perfectly content to help him, especially Bobby, but neither of the two hunters seemed too interested in conversing with him. In fact, they hardly spoke to him at all unless it was to tell him something about hunting which honestly suited Harry just fine as he was largely preoccupied about the demon's impending deadline. He only had two more days before the demon expected him to hand over the Elder Wand.

Dean didn't seem too keen on taking Harry's advice, but after several minutes of listening to Bobby call him an "idjit," he did finally pull his mobile from his pants pocket and dialed his brother's number.

There was a pregnant pause while the three men waited for the call to connect. Suddenly, a wide smile spread on Dean's face. "Sammy," he breathed into the mobile. "It's good to hear your voice."

* * *

A/N: So, Harry finally met Dean. I think it was a fairly anticlimactic meeting, but that's alright. Next chapter: Azazel comes a knocking, and Harry learns the consequences of going against him.

Please visit my profile page and check out the poll I'm about to post!

Thanks for reading.


	9. When Daddy comes a knockin'

Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and New Year's. It's been a bit insane around here, so it was hard to get any writing done. But I'm back at school now! Hopefully it won't take so long to update next time. Thanks for all of your reviews and alerts. I continue to be amazed by the response of this fic as I was very reluctant in the beginning to even pursue this.

Warnings: May contain spoilers for both HP & Supernatural. Both of which are definitely not owned by me!

Also, don't have a beta, so please forgive any errors! If you would like to offer up your services, feel free to do so!

Just a note: The time lines of both Harry Potter & Supernatural stand as is. Harry turned twenty-three in July of 2003. As of Chapter Four, this chapter, it is approximately March of 2004, some odd seventeen months prior to the beginning of Supernatural Season One. However, things will not progress at the same speed as they did in the series. I'm not certain how they will proceed, but I can say with some certainty that I will not be going episode to episode. Where's the fun in that, anyway?

I also haven't chosen a pairing. I'm thinking Castiel right now, but it really depends on how things progress. It's still fairly early, though, so anything's possible.

* * *

Blood of the Father

By _Koinaka_

By the pricking of my thumbs,  
Something wicked this way comes:  
Open, locks,  
Whoever knocks!

_MacBeth Act 4 Scene 1 Lines 44-47_

THEN

There was a pregnant pause while the three men waited for the call to connect. Suddenly, a wide smile spread on Dean's face. "Sammy," he breathed into the mobile. "It's good to hear your voice."

NOW

Chapter Eight  
When Daddy comes a knockin'

After a brief conversation with his brother Sam, that Harry had not been privy to as he had been sent from the room like an errant child, Dean and Bobby had become incredibly tight lipped. They hadn't expressly asked him to leave, but they had made it abundantly clear that they wished he would leave. He had done so only ten minutes later and had not returned.

He spent the following day searching for a more permanent residence. It was an extremely tired but happy Harry that returned to his motel room that night. That happiness soon turned to uneasiness when he'd not been able to reach Hermione by his mobile. She'd called him during the previous night to tell him that she had made some sort of break through, but that she would contact him when she had more information to give him. Hermione was nothing if not reliable, so he found it extremely strange that he was unable to reach her. He'd even tried using the two-way mirrors to no avail.

She was still unreachable when Harry left to pick up the keys to his new home the next day.

Miss Eldridge, the middle aged real estate agent, beamed as she pushed the keys into Harry's outstretched hand. "Here you are, Mr. Potter! We're so glad you've decided to make Spearfish your new home!"

Harry tried to return the smile, but he wasn't feeling particularly sociable. Every minute that went by without hearing from Hermione, he felt more and more anxious. He left the realty office and made his way back to his rental car. "Guess I should think about purchasing my own car," he mused as he slid into the driver's seat. "Or maybe a motor bike. Wonder if Mr. Weasley would be able to enchant it..."

His mind wandered as he drove the three miles between the realty office and his new house. The decision to make Spearfish, whose population was now officially 8,607, his home hadn't been a very difficult decision to make. The thought of staying in motel room after motel reminded him too much of the year he spent camping with Hermione and Ron while they searched for the horcruxes. He had vowed, to himself at least, to never live such a transitory existence again. Maybe it was due to his upbringing, but Harry had always yearned for a home of his own, had always needed the permanence of one. It was for that reason that he had sought out a house instead of continuing to rent a motel room. It would never be the same as Hogwarts, his first true home, or the Burrow, the home he wished he could have had growing up, but perhaps one day, it would be.

The house was a bit of a fixer up, but it had a quaint feel to it that Harry had adored the moment he saw it. It had once been a Bed and Breakfast, but due to low business the owner had been forced to close the doors. With only a little finagling - and a fancy bit of wand work - Harry was able to purchase the entire house with all of the furnishings as well as move in immediately, bypassing weeks of paperwork and negotiations. Perhaps it wasn't the most ethical way to accomplish the purchase of his new home, but it had been quite effective.

Over the course of the day, Harry made several more attempts at contacting Hermione. He left message after message for her, but never got any reply. He tried to tell himself that she was probably perfectly fine, tucked away in her study surrounded by books, but by the time, he arrived home, he was nearly ready to Apparate to the Burrow, consequences be damned. Harry pushed open the front door and stopped dead in his tracks, nearly dropping the two bags of groceries that he had carefully balanced in one arm. Sitting as pretty as you please on his sofa was the demon.

"How did you get in?" Harry asked, dumbfounded, as he watched the demon rise fluidly off the sofa. "You've not been invited." Harry hadn't been pouring over book after book for nothing. He was beginning to know the rules that the demon had to go by.

Harry's knowledge seemed to please the demon because he gave Harry a broad smile and a wink. "Funny thing about your lovely house, Sparky... I don't need an invitation. You see, _technically, _this isn't your house - yet. Your wand waving may have enabled you to move into the house immediately, but no one can escape paper work - not even a wizard. So, like I said, _technically _you have thirty days before this house ceases to be public property."

"Fine," Harry snarled. "You've managed to gain entrance on a technicality. Bully for you. What do you want?"

The demon considered him for a long moment. "Is that any way to talk to your daddy? Especially when I've come to make you a deal."

Harry saw red. "For the last time - _you are not my father!_" he hissed. He drew the Elder Wand out and trained it on the demon, vibrating with anger. The picture frames on the wall shook as his anger escalated. "And there's nothing you could offer me that I would ever want."

The demon, far from being angry or afraid in the least, threw his head back and laughed. "I wouldn't be so sure," he said. "How about the soul of your mommy being raised from perdition?"

"That again?" Harry said, nonplussed. "I'm not falling for that. You see, there's no way my mum's in hell. I've seen her, you know. Twice. So she can't be in hell."

The demon didn't look abashed in the least. "I guess you're not as stupid as I thought you were. Okay, how about this, then? You give me the Elder Wand, and I won't kill any more of your friends."

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "Any more of my friends? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not quite as bright as you'd like to think, are you?" The demon mused. "Not like your little friend. You know the one, that pretty little brunette? Smart as a whip, that one, doesn't miss a trick."

"Hermione," Harry breathed, his eyes narrowing in anger. "What have you done to Hermione?"

The demon cut Harry off with a wave of his hand. "Nothing she didn't bring on herself. Like I said, she's smart. A little too smart, if you know what I mean. Couldn't have her spoiling all my fun, now, could I? A shame that she couldn't keep her nose out of things that didn't concern her. I would have liked to make her child into one of my own," the demon paused. "You _did _know that she was pregnant, didn't you?"

The temperature in the room became stifling as the demon's words sunk in. Hermione had been researching something for _him. _While researching, she'd obviously discovered something truly dire. Something that she had had every intention of telling to Harry. Something that the demon obviously didn't want him to know. The demon had _killed _Hermione because of him. The demon had killed both Hermione _and _her baby because of him.

The demon's smile was beatific. "I think we understand one another now. The Elder Wand, if you please."

Harry closed his eyes in agony. Hermione had been one of his closest and dearest friends, and now she was dead because of him. He wanted nothing more than to give the demon the Elder Wand right that very moment, but he wouldn't. Hermione wouldn't have wanted that. Hadn't she said over and over again how dangerous it would be for _any _demon to have control over it? "No," he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper.

The demon's eyes widened. "No?" He said the word as if he didn't truly believe Harry had actually said it. "I must have been mistaken because I thought you said no, and I know you really aren't that foolish."

"I'm not giving you the Elder Wand. Is that plain enough for you?"

The demon tutted. "You really leave me no choice then. If you won't hand over that wand, after I've asked so nicely, then I guess I'll just have to keep killing your friends. How about one every day until you've given in, _or _until I've run out of friends to kill?"

When Harry made no move to give the wand to the demon, he continued. "I wonder who I should kill next? Perhaps your best buddy Ron, or maybe his little sister? Ah, yes," said the demon, noticing when he'd caught a nerve. "Miss Ginevra Weasley... Fiesty little red haired thing. Like dear old mommy, isn't she? A little too Oedipal for my tastes, but whatever floats your boat, Sparky." He gave Harry a wink. "Guess she doesn't _really _float your boat anymore. You're batting for the other team now..."

The demon continued talking, but his words were drowned out by the roaring of the wind in Harry's ears. Everything around him seemed to be happening in slow motion. He was vaguely aware of a knocking at his door, but all he could think of was how he wanted, more than anything, to _hurt _the demon like he was hurting now.

The demon fell to the ground with a pain-filled shriek. Harry watched in pleasure as the demon's body writhed and his legs contorted in pain for several long minutes before the shrieks died out and the demon picked himself up off the ground.

When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and breathless, but he seemed positively elated. _"_Oh boy, I think this is going to work out nicely. You see what you can accomplish with the right motivation?" His tone turned thoughtful. "You know what? I think I'll let you keep the Elder Wand, for now. Love the new eye color, by the way."

The demon disappeared with a snap of his fingers as the front door burst open to reveal Dean and another boy, this one tall with dark hair.

"Whoa, looks like a tornado hit this place," the dark-haired boy said.

It was only then that Harry took in the state of disarray his house was now in. The many paintings that covered the walls had all fallen to the floor and their frames were now broken. Several of the windows were now broken as well which allowed water from the heavy rainfall currently taking place to soak the rugs nearby.

Harry wiped at liquid running down his face only to realize that it was blood. He looked at his hands feeling oddly disconnected from his body. "I'm bleeding," he said inanely before collapsing on the floor.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Sorry for the wait. I got about half of this written and chucked it because I didn't like it. Still don't, but every time I try it comes out pretty much the same. Please don't kill me!


End file.
